Muerte Dichosa – Propósito
by Azure Umbra
Summary: (AU where the entire timeline of Coco begins a century later & takes place after the events of the movie) This will be a two-parter, where one takes place in the land of the living & the other in the land of the dead. This one's in the land of the living.
1. Chapter 1

_Sometimes, I still wonder how all this is still going on. My name's Tulio Perez. I might sound like somebody you don't know, but actually, I'm tied to someone you probably do know. At first glance, my family is somewhat small, but an older relative of mine happened to find love and got married to someone from the Rivera family, the greatest musical family in Mexico._

 _You see, about 100 years ago, the Riveras were just a family of shoemakers living in Santa Cecilia. Then after one Dia de los Muertos, one of their kids comes out claiming to have a great-great-grandfather who's the true author of almost all of Mexico's greatest classics. That kid's name is Miguel Rivera._

 _He had a love for music, even when the rest of the family forbade it at the time, but after singing a song that restored the spirit of his own great-grandmother, his family began getting all sorts of attention: songs being credited to his great-great-grandfather, the original copies being displayed for tourists to see, and papa Miguel even got to be a musician like he wanted. The music of Mexico was reborn, all thanks to him._

 _His great-great-grandfather, by the way, was Hector Rivera. He pretty much started the whole "Rivera music"-thing, but he was still the real talent behind the songs everyone knows, like "Un Poco Loco," "The World is Mi Familia," and especially "Remember Me." But he was only able to get the recognition and love he deserved because of Miguel, who was able to take them back from the thief, whom everyone thought was the author for another 96 years before…I think it was someone called "de la Cruz"? I think I only read a little bit about that guy on a few websites, but from what I do know, everyone says he's no good. They say he only became famous by murdering Hector, who was his best friend, back in the 2000's and passed the guy's songs off as his own. Even after he died, people still looked up to him…until papa Miguel revealed his secret, that is. No one likes him. I don't like him. I'd avoid him if only I knew what he looked like. Pictures of him are so hard to come by nowadays…_

* * *

"Tulio!"

A sudden, loud knocking jolted the boy from his chair, jostling the notebook he had been writing in just moments before. He braced himself for a moment as he stood up and faced his bedroom door. "S-si?" he answered.

The older voice answered with a somewhat rough tone, "Everyone needs you downstairs to help with the Dia de Muertos decorations. Hurry up in there, will you?"

"Okay," Tulio sighed, not with an exasperated groan as you might have expected from a kid like him. In fact, he does have a love for the holiday, which came to be since hearing the famed Rivera story that started by no other than Miguel Rivera himself. Tulio just wished that everyone wouldn't make the deal too big every time. He went over and turned out the lights before leaving his room.

Downstairs, several other family members were preparing the marigold adornments on the outside of the house. Strands of marigolds were being hung from the edges of the roof while the table was being set for tonight's family dining. Aside from lighting the ofrenda and setting up the food dishes there, most of the major preparations were almost done. Tulio had made it into the yard when he was finally spotted by his mom first.

"Mijo," she spoke to him with concern, "Where were you? We've almost finished."

"Sorry mama," Tulio apologized. He looked around briefly to see that the rest of his family was looking at him curiously, so he knew he had to finish up his explanation as quickly as he could. "I…was just…finishing preparing my room for the holiday, yes?" He gave his best innocent smile.

His mother looked at him for a moment, and then quietly sighed. Placing her hand on his shoulder, she kept her eyes on him. "Well, if you feel you need to add something more to the home, you can do it for the ofrenda," she said to him. Looking at Tulio's assuring nod, she went back to her work. Tulio was immediately greeted by his father who came up to him from behind.

"Don't feel too bad, mijo," he assured his son, "what matters is that you're here to help now." Tulio looked up to his dad to see him hold a broom in front of him. "Here, why don't you sweep the outside street clean for now?" Seeing that there was nothing else, Tulio nodded and took the broom from his father's hand. He turned to venture out into the street of his neighborhood.

* * *

Tulio thought about what would happen tonight as he swept. From what he remembered, one of the Riveras was coming over to celebrate with his family. For him personally, this felt like a honor. He had never been more proud to be related to a Rivera, though he didn't feel as much of a need to flaunt it around as he thought he might have. On the flipside, he didn't see his Rivera relatives that much, so he took every opportunity to hang out with them when the time was right. Deep in his thoughts, Tulio did not realize he had been sweeping down the street away from home for a long while now. Eventually, the boy snapped his head up to realize this.

"Oh darn," he muttered under his breath. Seeing that his home was not in the immediate vicinity, he took a little bit of time to retrace his steps. He took notice that he went on a downward slope, so all he had to do was go back the way he came. He wasted no time running, but as he did, he passed by a shady alleyway and from the corner of his eye, noticed something lying in the alley and abruptly stopped running. He walked over to the opening of the alley and peered in, looking past the crates and litter that lined the walls until his gazed reached the fence that stood deep in the alley, cutting off access to the rest of the alley. Looking down to the foot of the fence was a large mass that appeared to wrapped or bundled in a roughly textured tarp. Warily, Tulio took a step into the alley to see that the mass slowly expanded and shrunk, like it was breathing. As the boy's eyes went over and around the thing wrapped in the tarp, and after a moment, could deduce that within the wrapped tarp was a person, a person lying on the side with the back facing Tulio. The revelation made him gasp.

"H-hello?" he called out to the person lying on the ground. He ran forward and knelt down to examine the person. "Are you all right?" What he got in return was an audible groan, which sounded masculine. "Are you all right, sir?" Tulio asked again, but the man just shuffled in his sleep.

"Go away," the man groaned, shuffling away from Tulio until he was just hugging the fence. But Tulio, having been raised according to his family's principles and also Rivera principles, was not taking that for an answer.

"Please, let me help you," Tulio softly begged him. "I can help you get better."

"Leave me alone."

Seeing that this man was going to be a stubborn one, Tulio looked away in contemplation for a moment, and then turned back to the man. "Well, you shouldn't have to sleep on the ground. I'll bet with such a hard ground like that, no wonder you're the only one here who is." The man didn't move. Tulio continued, "tell you what: why don't you stay at my home for now? I'll let you lie down on our comfiest bed and you can finish your sleep there. After, you can go on your way. How's that sound?"

The man lay still for a little while, with Tulio breaking the silence with some toe tapping. "Fine," the man replied quietly. Tulio leaned forward to help him up, but the man pushed upward on his own two feet, keeping his body away from the hands of the boy offering them. But seeing him back on his feet prompted Tulio to do the same. The man lifted the part of the tarp covering his head and let it drop down to his shoulders. His face was revealed to have a square frame, with a full head of short black hair with several strands dangling down in front of his forehead touching the top of his eyes. A modestly bushy moustache lined his upper lip, and he had an overall brown skin on his face and the rest of his body, if his exposed forearms as seen by Tulio were any indication. Overall, he had a stocky physique hidden under the tarp, which he kept cloaked around himself.

"Well, let's go," Tulio beckoned to the man. He walked out of the alley and proceeded up the sloped road, waiting every few moments to let the man catch up. It proved to be quite slow, since the man appeared to walk at his own pace, missing a step or two. But Tulio was not going to let that hamper his mood and ruin his first impression with the man, whom he could consider the first stranger he has ever extended hospitality to. He wondered how bad his family would freak about inviting a stranger into the home of his own decision. The walk back home continued on in silence, so since he knew it would be a while away, Tulio turned to the man while mounting the broom on his shoulder. "So, señor," he spoke to the man, "what's your name? Mine's Tulio."

The man stayed silent for a moment, and answered, "Ernesto."


	2. Chapter 2

Tulio was almost home, though he was sure that his family would already be worrying about him by now, considering he had been taking his time leading a complete stranger to his own home. Tulio went through all the possible responses he could make when he was soon to be confronted by his family's questions. All that mattered to him at the moment was that the stranger had a name: **Ernesto**.

 _"Ernesto,"_ Tulio thought to himself, _"why does that name sound familiar?"_

Tulio and Ernesto finally reached the Perez home, and Tulio made sure to walk in through the front gate first. Upon entering, he was immediately surrounded by his parents and also his grandmother.

"There you are, Tulio," his father spoke first, "you finished a little later than I thought."

"Yeah, I know, papa," Tulio responded, feeling relieved that the initial reaction wasn't too much. He then heard his grandmother speak.

"Well, it's good to have you back," she said to him in her sweet tone, which was what she seemed to consistently reserve for her grandchildren, though she was not limited to doing so for her own immediate children, such as Tulio's parents. "You want to come with me to get the last bundle of marigolds for the evening flower path?"

Tulio took a deep breath in and out – it was now or never. "Sounds good, but actually, I have to tell you something first." That got his parents and grandmother leaning closer. Tulio motioned a pointed thumb behind him to point towards the tattered stranger standing just outside the gate. When the older relatives' eyes found the man, they then looked back down to the boy warily.

"Tulio," his father began to ask him in a quiet but firm tone, "who is he?"

Tulio thought he was prepared for his parents' questions, but now that he's heard them, could only take a slow brief look back at Ernesto, who was waiting at the front with a skeptical expression. He even caught the man raising an eyebrow. "Well," he drew out his words, "he was someone I found on the street, so I thought I could give him a place to stay." In a split second, he found his parents, but especially his grandmother, about to make a surprised face, so he knew he had to quickly finish explaining. "It's only for a little bit!" he rapidly interjected, putting up his hands in defense, "I just wanted to give him something nice to lie down on instead of the ground." He then settled down, "I couldn't just leave him there."

That didn't persuade the three, but his grandmother did walk a little closer to her grandson. "Nieto," she addressed Tulio, "we're not against you showing kindness to people you meet, but you need to be smart about this." She leaned in closer until she was within whispering range of Tulio's ear. "You never know what they might do behind a closed door."

"So, does that mean no?" Tulio asked hesitantly, now feeling nervous upon looking at Ernesto again. He tensely waited for an answer from his grandmother, who gave a deep sigh.

"Where did you find this man?" she asked.

Tulio answered immediately: "In an alleyway full of junk."

"Did you notice anything unusual about the way he looked?"

"He was wrapped in a tarp and had dirty clothes."

"No weapons? Hidden items?"

"He looked bare…"

"Did he tell you his name?"

"He said his name's Ernesto."

Tulio's grandmother paused, and then spoke. "This man can stay here," she told him, which prompted a sigh from the boy, but was quickly cut off, "but only until tomorrow. After that, he must go." Tulio held on tensely as he waited for his grandmother and parents to part ways. Once they did, he finally let out a sincere sigh of relief. Turning back to the gate, he gave a nod and thumbs up to Ernesto, who looked slightly surprised that there was approval. He took a slow step forward and then warily began walking past the gate and onto the premises. As he followed Tulio, he looked around to see all the orange floral decorations hanging around the area.

"Are you preparing for Dia de los Muertos?" he asked the boy.

"Yeah," replied Tulio, "but we don't start the flower path until sundown, and we're waiting for the whole family to get together before we celebrate." He then looked back at the beguiled man with a light smile. "So we've got lots of time until the festival starts."

"Mijo!" Tulio heard his mother calling to him, waving a hand to beckon him and his guest over. The two followed the woman to find themselves at a corner of the property. Tulio's mother slid a sleak-looking door open to reveal a simple room. It had a bed with white sheets in one corner and a desk in the corner across from it. A window stood in the middle, letting daylight shine through it while the frame was lined with secured shutters that stood vertically, enabling them to be rotated open or shut with the turn of a knob. The walls were white and the floor was covered in warm peach tiles.

"You can stay here for the rest of the day and overnight," she spoke to Ernesto, "if you need anything, you can let any of us know." She then turned to exit the room, leaving the two alone. An awkward silence lingered between them, and Tulio opened his mouth to break the silence when Ernesto spoke first:

"Well, looks like I'm good for the afternoon and evening," he said nonchalantly. "I believe I'd like to rest myself now."

"Uh, y-yeah! Yeah," Tulio fumbled briefly before turning to leave. Just as he stepped out the door, he suddenly stopped, almost falling over forwards from the momentum. He swung around to address Ernesto, who had already begun to look quite exasperated. "Oh! Before I forget, you turn the knob to the right to close the shutters."

Ernesto looked back at the boy with a confused look in his eye, since only seconds before, he was trying to figure out how to shut away the sunlight shining through the window. "Yeah," he huffed, not taking another glance at the boy, "thanks."

Tulio frowned slightly before closing the door.

As he took some time to take in the deafening silence that now surrounded him in the little room, Ernesto went to close the shutters of the window, leaving him in almost complete darkness, save for the little slivers of sunlight coming through the gaps between the shutters. He let himself drop down in a sitting position on the bed. His eyes dropped down as he lifted his left hand to the collar of his dirty and tattered shirt. Grabbing it and letting his hand drop, he tugged down his collar to look at a thin line of black markings etched on the skin of his left collarbone. He sighed inaudibly before letting his whole body drop down on his side onto the mattress, closing his eyes shut and waited for the embrace of slumber to envelop him again.

* * *

 _"I really don't think Tulio had the right idea here."_

 _"Well, this stranger is the first one he's been this way to. A lesson can still be learned."_

 _"He said the man's name is Ernesto. Do you know something about that?"_

 _"Other than the fact there's more than enough men in Mexico with that name, vaguely."_

 _"Sure, but that face…I feel like I've seen it before, like in a publication or something."_

 _"I'm starting to feel dumb for not having an answer."_

 _"Don't be like that. You're not the only one behind the times."_

Tulio walked around the corner to find his parents and grandmother talking to each other in furious whispers. "What are you talking about?" he asked loudly, catching their attention. The three family members looked at each other momentarily before turning back to address the boy with a smile.

"Nothing at all, mijo," his mother spoke first. "We're just discussing what to do when your other abuelo gets here."

This caused a smile to appear on Tulio's face. "Oh, yeah," he exclaimed with excitement. He turned to his grandmother, "Abuelita, didn't you say we needed to get some more flowers?"

This prompted a smile from the old woman herself. "Oh yes, of course. Are you ready, Tulito?" Tulio giggled nervously at the nickname. He gave a quick nod. Without further exchanges, grandmother and grandson made their way out of the Perez home and into the street heading to the market.

* * *

After some walking and going through some exchanges at the market, the two finally got their fresh bundle of marigolds. They turned to head back home, their business being finished. Weaving through the packed crowds of people, they managed to get to a less crowded part of the market. Tulio carried the flowers while his grandmother led the way.

"Once we get home, we'll use these flower to replace the ones on the ofrenda," she dictated her itinerary. "We can't have those wilted by the time our ancestors come to visit."

Tulio was busy looking at other crowds to listen to what his grandmother was actually saying, though he did think about what he thought he overheard just an hour earlier. He was pretty sure he heard Ernesto's name among the quieted words, and the tone sounded pretty harsh.

 _"What could they have against him?"_ Tulio thought to himself. _"He's just a guy I met on the street."_ But he didn't get time to finish his thoughts when he suddenly heard jovial shouting near the entrance of the market. He and his grandmother looked to their right to find a familiar elderly man waving to them, causing the boy to gasp.

His grandmother was approaching the man with a happy expression, showing a tone of joy as she greeted him and went for a hug. Tulio, on the other hand, could only manage a simple greeting since he carried the flowers. "Papa Gregorio!" he greeted his grandfather from the Rivera family.

The older man likewise swooped in for a hug from behind. "Ah, there's my other grandson," he exclaimed with a light-hearted tone. "Look how big you are!"

The three turned around to leave the market to head back to the Perez house. Tulio listened as both his grandmother and Rivera-grandfather talked to each other of good times. Tulio actually was surprised – he didn't expect Gregorio to be here so early. At least, he thought he would have arrived after a couple more hours. But he's here now, so the day could be better, right?

"So, Tulio," he heard Gregorio speak to him, "your abuelita tells me you brought an extra guest over."

Maybe not.


	3. Chapter 3

Tulio's heart was racing once he heard his abuelo Gregorio ask him that question. His eyes were wide open and he said nothing for a few seconds before forcing his mouth open to give his revered abuelo an answer. "Uh, yeah," he answered, trying to force the words out. "I did bring an extra guest. It's just an overnight stay."

"And I also heard you found him sleeping in the gutter," Gregorio inquired further.

"Si," Tulio humored him further, "and I kinda let him use the spare guest room. He's already there sleeping though."

Gregorio turned back to Tulio's grandmother, who only gave a shrug, which Gregorio in turn returned in stride. "Remember, Tulito," the old woman reminded her grandson, "he's only here until tomorrow." Tulio nodded and his grandmother continued, "And no more picking up people off the streets. Next time, bring them to a shelter, or at least let one of us know before you do anything."

"Si, si, abuelita," Tulio flinched defensively, taking cover behind the bundle of marigolds he was holding. He felt his shoulder being patted by Gregorio, who got to the other side of his grandson so that the boy stood between both grandparents.

"No worries, muchacho," Gregorio reassured him, "if anything, it might mean that we have an extra partygoer for tonight." Tulio only nodded in approval, not feeling any need to make another interactive quip.

Once the three finally made it home, Tulio only had to bear with the predictable reactions of every other family member, grownup, sibling, and cousin alike. Tulio could only feel good that his Rivera-grandpa was finally here, and the feeling was even mitigated by the old man's reassurance that he was making the most of this Dia de Muertos.

Once he saw that his grandpa was being led into the main house, he thought of checking on Ernesto again. Quickly going into the family kitchen, he took a glass from the cupboard and filled it with water before heading back outside and towards the guest shack. Carefully standing at the sliding door, the boy thought about whether or not the man was awake or still sleeping, but eventually made the decision to quietly knock to check. When he heard no answer, he tried a moderate calling.

"Um, Señor Ernesto?" he spoke through the door without actually yelling. "Are you awake?" He waited, but there was no answer. Slowly, Tulio slid the door open, being carefully not to make any noise at all. Once he slid it wide enough to fit his body in the gap, he slipped through while holding the glass of water. He made it inside, and seeing the man lying on the bed on his side facing the wall away from the door, tiptoed towards the desk. He got to the edge and managed to place the glass cup on the wooden surface when he turned his head to look at the slumbering man. Even though he was just looking at his back, Tulio could sense that Ernesto appeared quite peaceful when he was asleep. Tulio couldn't resist looking him over for just a moment as he was curious of the man. He mainly examined Ernesto's face, which had a square-like shape to match the stocky frame and build composing the rest of him. Ernesto did not lie under a blanket, so Tulio could make out the texture of the man's tattered clothing. However, just when he thought he was finished ogling, he noticed a speck of black sticking from under Ernesto's shirt collar. Slowly, he peered over the man's shoulder to get a closer look to find that this little black marking was: a number. Tulio made an attempt to read it when:

"Tulio, where are you?"

Tulio shot back upright upon hearing the sudden distant calling of his mother, tensely look back at the partially open door and then back down at Ernesto, wondering if that woke him up. He briefly panicked upon seeing the man shuffle slightly, but he went still again, prompting a sigh of relief from the boy. He did a hopping tiptoe back to the door, rapidly slipped through it, and slid the door shut again.

* * *

 _"No, no, please don't…"_

 _"It's okay, hermano…"_

 _"But, you can't!"_

 _"Hey, hey…we never had much, but you still have something left."_

 _"You're all I have…you're all I have left…"_

 _*AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH*_

Ernesto's eyes opened. His breathing was quiet, but short and rapid. He turned over onto his back to look at the darkened ceiling. Turning his head left and right, he remembered the guest room he was currently in. Ernesto pushed himself upright until he was in a sitting position, hunched forward to rest an elbow on a raised knee. He rubbed his eyes and turned to the window which still had its shutters closed, seeing that sunlight still shone brightly through the gaps. It appeared that the sun had not yet begun to set. Looking back down at the collar of his shirt, he gently tugged it to readjust his shirt, just covering the base of his neck where the tattooed number was. He set his feet onto the tiled floor and pushed himself upright, heading towards the door. But he was stopped by the sight of a glass of water that stood on the desk nearby. He stared at the glass, without a doubt figuring that it was put in there by his hosts. He took another glance at the top of his shirt.

 _"It doesn't look like they know. I don't want to be here, but…they're nice, sweet…should I just leave?"_ He sighed. _"What am I even doing?"_

He turned to the front door and slid it open, walking back out under the light blue sky. He turned to enter the main courtyard which still had its floral decorations. Seeing it reminded him that the atmosphere was prepared towards something festive, happy…like it was celebrating something, taking time to remember something or someone special. He remembered a few Dia de Muertos celebrations a long time ago, though what he remembered best from these events was the occasion when families would turn to those lavishly decorated tables covered from top to bottom in flowers, candles, and dishes of food. But the main centerpieces of those tables were the various pictures of people's faces that stood on the flat surfaces. Some of these pictures ranged from slightly faded to monochrome to color to even clear definition, along with either being physical photos encased in frames to tablet-like electronic screens allowing for easy digital viewing. Ernesto even thought about times when he could set up his own ofrenda, though his memory of who he wanted on it was hazy at best, though he found himself wondering what would happen if he were on an ofrenda. No, such thoughts were pointless and a waste of time. Like it would ever happen…

"Oh, you're awake."

Ernesto turned to find himself being greeted by the shorter young boy who had just walked out of his house onto the patio. He saw that the boy had appeared to have changed his attire. In the first several hours, he had seen the boy in a simple short-sleeved golf shirt that went along with light tan cargo pants. Now, he had switched out the golf shirt with a long-sleeved cotton shirt that had a black torso and blue sleeves.

"You again," Ernesto replied to the boy's greeting. "Tulio, was it?"

The boy nodded his head with a smile. "Si, that's my name. How are you feeling?"

The man's eyes fell slightly. He saw that the boy looked so cheerful and polite. "I feel quite rested, gracias," he answered Tulio. He didn't want to prolong the awkward hesitation any longer. "Are you ready for the holiday?"

"Not yet," Tulio replied. "The flower path still needs to be done, and it's not yet sunset. But our whole family's finally together, so we're just having some downtime right now." Ernesto shuffled his feet for a little bit, but he heard the boy continue to speak to him. "Are you going to celebrate?"

"Que?" Ernesto asked.

"Are you going to be at the festival?" Tulio clarified. "There's going to be a lot of people at the plaza tonight and the cemetery is also going to be packed as well. Do you have a family coming to visit?"

Ernesto huffed, "Hard to expect that when I don't even have an ofrenda."

Tulio blinked, but then realized, "Oh, right," he said, scratching the back of his head. "But that doesn't mean you can't be happy about the holiday." He saw that Ernesto was looking rather glum and was getting ready to turn away from him, so he interjected, "But wait, wait! Hear this: tonight's going to be the liveliest festival ever! There's going to be a musical talent show being held at the plaza, and listen to this – it's going to open up with my abuelo who just came into town. He's like, a celebrity, and the event's kinda being held in his family's honor, which is my family too!"

That made Ernesto raise an eyebrow. "Oh?" he inquired, "You're related to some important family?"

"A famous family," Tulio corrected the man again, however jovially, "my abuelo is Gregorio Rivera, member of familia Rivera, greatest musical family in Mexico!"

 _Rivera_

The name echoed in Ernesto's head.

 _Rivera_

 _"No,"_ he whispered in his mind. _"No, it can't be…"_

 _Rivera. Rivera. Rivera._

 _"No."_ The whispers in his mind became louder, repeating themselves with a harsh tone that caused the man's heart to race. _"No no no no…No! This isn't happening! This can't be happening!"_ He clenched his hands on his head, ignoring the concerned calls of the boy in front of him. _"Why me? Why now? Why them? They're here…they're…"_

He only had so much time to think when he was jolted back into reality by the sudden touch of Tulio's hands holding him by his elbows. "Señor! Señor Ernesto, what's wrong?" Shock came in turn to Tulio when he saw the man suddenly yank himself away, staggering backwards with an expression on his face that looked surprised, scared, even a little bit angry. He could hear the man's rapidly stuttering no's as he watched him pace erratically and furiously with his hands in his hair, looking down on the ground as though he were searching in vain for some lost object. Tulio tried again to reach out to Ernesto. "Señor?"

Tulio found himself growing fearful as he then saw the man turn to face him with a face terrifyingly twisted into an expression of seething teeth-clenched outrage. "Why, you little…" he heard Ernesto whisper in a cutting tone that made it audible to the normal ear. "You tricked me…"

"What?" Tulio squeaked.

"You lied to me." Ernesto slowly raised a finger pointing directly at the boy. "You brought me here just to tear me apart again! Just to have the Riveras trample me to the ground just like everyone else! Your familia…" he growled.

Tulio was as scared as he was confused. He didn't like the way his guest was acting. "N-now wait just a moment, señor," he stammered, walking towards the shaking man while holding his hands up with the hope he could diffuse the situation. "I d-didn't mean to scare you, but please, calm down." Just as he placed his hands on Ernesto, the man in turn swiped at him.

"Don't touch me!" Ernesto told the boy a little louder now. "Don't you dare do this to me!"

"Señor…Ernesto…please!" Tulio pleaded, trying to talk down the distressed man.

"Tulio!" a voice called out from behind. Both the man and boy snapped out of their current mood to find a group of older family members racing towards them. Tulio could spot his grandmother in the group, but at the very front was his abuelo Gregorio, who ran the fastest. The old man's eyes were focused on the younger man standing near his grandson.

"You!" Gregorio exclaimed. "Get away from my grandson!" Hearing that made Tulio jump away from Ernesto.

"Papa Gregorio, wait," Tulio called out, but the old man wasn't listening. Without either Ernesto or Tulio expecting it, Gregorio threw a punch at Ernesto's jaw, causing him to fall straight onto the dusty ground. He could only make out the old man's next words, spoken in a tone as venomous as a snake's:

"What are you doing in our home, _de la Cruz_ scum?"


	4. Chapter 4

"What are you doing in our home, _de la Cruz_ scum?"

Those words caused time to stop for Tulio who was standing at the side watching the altercation between his Rivera-grandfather and the man named Ernesto who was on the ground. "De la Cruz?" Tulio quietly gasped, feeling his head reel at what he just heard. It suddenly clicked for him: **Ernesto de la Cruz** – the man whom all of Mexico thought was its newest founding father of a new generation of musica, but then recoiled at the revelation of his dark rise to fame.

 _In the early 2000's, he was just an amateur singer who had just barely begun getting his name into the wider community. Having only been on his first tour, he had been going across the country alongside a fellow musician, Hector Rivera. Being only a singer, he had to rely on Hector for the creative variety of songs to draw and sustain crowds. But unlike Ernesto, who simply wanted to share the music for the sake of being rewarded by the crowd's smiles, Hector wrote music because he loved it, but held an even deeper love for his wife and little daughter. It then happened one night when Hector decided he had enough – he was returning home to be with his family immediately. But Ernesto, not having what Hector had, put a stop to that. With a shot glass of poisoned tequila, poor Hector never saw his beloveds again. Ernesto went on to take everything Hector worked hard to create and became the face of everything the people wanted about a truly gifted musician, a 'true' artist. At least it was, after 21 years, when he gave his final performance which ended with an unfortunate (or was it?) accident. People would continue to venerate his name for another 75 years until the truth came out, thanks to the efforts of Miguel Rivera, who was none other than the descendant – the great-great-grandson – of Hector himself. It wasn't easy, but after one year, de la Cruz's adoration turned to consternation, and one could only argue if it was more fitting for him to be forgotten like he was always afraid of or continue to be remembered, but just not in the way he wanted to be._

Tulio snapped out of his epiphany as he remembered the hostile confrontation happening between his own Rivera-grandfather and the man being labelled as _"de la Cruz"_ lying before him, a clash between two significant names apparently imminent.

"Well, answer me?" Gregorio angrily demanded, having earlier asked Ernesto what he was doing in his family's home. "Why are you here and what are you doing with my grandson?"

"Cool it, viejo, we were just talking, and your boy here…" Ernesto managed to say before Gregorio interrupted him again with a foot on the other man's chest.

"Don't you dare try and pin the blame on my grandson," Gregorio growled threateningly but also protectively at the fallen man, "I wouldn't expect you to understand what it means to blame a child for your problems."

"Now hold it right there," Ernesto protested back, his displeasure returning, "Your grandson here invited me to stay! He most certainly didn't tell me he had you for family!"

That made Gregorio and the other family members look directly at Tulio, who by now was cowering from the surge of unwanted attention. Every one of them looked wide-eyed, and even Tulio's grandmother and Gregorio himself let out a soft gasp.

"Uh…" Tulio shook, wondering what he was going to do next to mitigate this.

"And you went along with it," Gregorio said in response to Ernesto's words. Turning to look at his grandson, the old man's eyes held a somewhat hurt look which Tulio noticed before swiftly turning back to face Ernesto. "And I don't suppose you were planning to do something to my family while their backs are turned, weren't you?" his voice returned to that of hostile protectiveness.

"What? Are you serious?" Ernesto exclaimed, scooting away from the old man's foot and pushing himself back on his feet. "I think I've had with this lot," he growled loudly looking at each person on the premises with the best glare he could muster. "I've had it with you," he looked at Gregorio, "you, you, you, you…" looking at the others, "and especially… _you_." He looked directly into the eyes of Tulio, who could only feel the man's gaze burning a hole in his young soul.

"My family has suffered enough, thanks to your name," Gregorio glared at Ernesto in turn. "I don't need them, especially my poor nieto, being tormented by a murderer's leftovers." Tulio, after getting his bearings again, looked to see that Ernesto's collar had fallen, exposing a line of numbers on his skin where his left collarbone was. "Now get lost, _replicante_!"

Ernesto stood for a moment, his face fallen and eyebrows pushed together in a pained expression, and looked at the old man seething before him after hearing that final word. But once his eyes returned to Tulio standing at the side, all feelings of hurt dissipated and were immediately replaced with a seething anger of his own. He turned away, kicking a bit of dust and stomped towards the gate. When he reached the gate, he shoved it open to go back out onto the street, not bothering at all to close it behind him. Once the atmosphere had settled, everyone turned to go back into the house. Tulio caught a glimpse of his grandmother shaking her head, which instantly made him feel guilty. He began to follow the rest of his family into the house when he suddenly felt Gregorio's hand being placed on his shoulder. Tulio, in turn, froze and tensed up, his heart racing as he felt a new wave of fear.

"Are you all right, mijo?" Gregorio asked his grandson, his voice softer but still rigid with slight consternation.

"S-s-si, abuelo," Tulio stammered.

"Did he hurt you?"

Tulio shook his head, trying not to do so frantically. He was hoping his two short answers would be enough to satisfy his grandfather's questions and that it would the end of the matter. But Gregorio only walked around to stand directly in front of his grandson. Crouching down slightly until his eye level was at Tulio's, he lifted a finger under the boy's chin, prompting him to look at the elder.

Gregorio took a breath to say something, but held it in hesitation before exhaling. "Just…" he paused while speaking quietly to Tulio, which did nothing to ease his tension, "remember to talk to your familia first next time, alright?" Tulio could only manage a nod. Gregorio gave a small, somewhat flat smile in turn before gently patting his grandson's shoulder. "Good boy," he whispered. He released the boy's shoulders and turned to walk back into the house.

Tulio, however, didn't move. He simply stood, too deep in thought to do anything. After a while, he did begin walking, but went towards the newly empty guest shack where Ernesto, the man he had willingly opened his home to, had stayed just hours before. Slowly pulling the door open, Tulio stood silently at the open entrance, taking a gaze at the wrinkled bed, closed window shutters, and the empty glass cup that stood on the nearby desk, noticing the little drops of water that clung to the inner surface.


	5. Chapter 5

The sun had begun to go down, and everyone was officially getting ready for the celebration. Some had been dressed up or painted to fit the mood while others were finishing up final preparations for their ancestors' arrival. At the Perez household, the preparations were underway, with the table finally set up for the family to dine. Cousins helped make sure there was space on the table for the food and elbow room. The parents were putting away some extra furniture to make space for people to sing and dance. Abuelita opened up the gate to enable a clear view of the street, though she did get help from Gregorio. Out on the street, kids with face paint were running happily while followed by their parents and music and cheers began to fill the air.

Meanwhile though, Tulio was busy sprinkling marigolds onto the ground to mark the path for the family ancestors, starting from the ofrenda and going until he reached the front. He made sure to use every petal. As he was thickening the flower path, he couldn't stop mentally repeating a conversation he had with Gregorio earlier:

 _"It's too bad the man you showed kindness to happened to be a de la Cruz."_

 _"Papa Gregorio, that man Ernesto…was he really Ernesto de la Cruz?"_

 _"Not really, nieto. Well, technically, yes and no. But do you know when Ernesto de la Cruz died?"_

 _"Yeah."_

 _"Then you'd know that he's been dead for almost 200 years."_

 _"Then who was that man? You called him 'de la Cruz,' so I guess he looks exactly like Ernesto de la Cruz. He even has the same name as him."_

 _"I know. It's very confusing."_

 _"So how is it possible? How can there be a man who looks exactly like someone from 200 years ago?"_

 _"Tulio, do you know what a replicant is?"_

A replicant. Gregorio had called Ernesto a "replicante." According to Tulio's own general knowledge (thank you, Internet), a replicant was an artificial human of sorts. A replicant can either be genetically engineered or synthetically built as an exact replica of a particular human being, which in this case, was Ernesto de la Cruz. It might have explained the random numbers tattooed on the man's skin. Gregorio confirmed every one of those facts Tulio had recited, to which he further elaborated on the existence of the Ernesto-replicant. Ernesto de la Cruz remained popular even after his death, so much so that major companies and fans sought in any kind of way to continue his legacy.

Tulio, seeing that he had used up almost all the petals, thought he had some extra time, so from his back pocket, pulled out his phone and began to type into a search bar:

 ***Typing "Ernesto" [autocomplete Ernesto de la Cruz], typing "rep-" [autocomplete replicant], autocomplete as [Ernesto de la Cruz replicantes], SEARCH***

Tulio looked at the various results that came up to find ample information, mostly from encyclopedic databases:

 _About 5 years after Ernesto's infamous death, a proposal was put forward to the main Mexican government as part of an effort to revive and maintain his legacy. Mainly instigated by devoted fans and then major companies looking to further profit off the man's contributions, the idea was that there would be a physical organic copy of the musician himself in every town and city that knew of him – one in every home, for lack of a better term. The decision to make these copies organic is based on the intuition of giving people something real, something they could truly see, touch, and talk to as if it really were de la Cruz himself. And of course, every copy would have knowledge of every song ever performed by the original._

 _While the idea was taken into consideration, at that time, it was not yet possible, so it sat dormant until 25 years had passed. By then, the technology and skills to perform such a feat had been realized, so work on producing these biological copies began right away. Ernesto's physical features were rebuilt from the ground up, and the whole body was made to be composed entirely of real human flesh and blood. Whether or not they were reconstructed using genetic material from de la Cruz himself or made and grown entirely from scratch remains unclear – official documentation classifies it as a corporate secret. But when it came to Ernesto's memories and personality, biotechnologists had to rely on information from the media and archived records of his shows, movies, performances, and interviews in order to know just who was he. After that, turning that information into data to be properly uploaded digitally into each replicant's brain was the easy finishing touch._

 _The replicants sold like hot tamales across Mexico. Every small town and the occasional village had at least one, while bigger towns each had maybe one to two replicants. Cities that were well off had the luxury of getting at least six replicants. But it didn't stop there. After Mexico, the replicants began to be sold in the United States, and then most of South America. Then after successful sales in Spain, the rest of the world got to have their share. It was as if the song "The World es Mi Familia" just got taken to a whole other extreme. For 45 years, the industry thrived off of these lookalikes, and people loved them simply to appreciate having a little piece of someone long gone close to home._

 _But then along came the scandal, in which Miguel Rivera made the claim that his great-great-grandfather, Hector Rivera, was the true author of the songs and not Ernesto, the real man. It prompted an investigation and was proven true, and after a court ruling, Ernesto was posthumously officially declared a murder, thief, and fraud. The revelation immediately resulted in outrage. Besides the slandering of Ernesto's name, replicant sales dropped to pretty much zero in a flash. All replicants that were sold outside of Mexico were recalled back to said country and the Mexican companies responsible for producing them discontinued production immediately, though there was the exception of one company that refused to follow suit which then went under to the surprise of no one._

 _Last, but not least, all Mexican owners who previously purchased replicants were promptly refunded, but the companies didn't have the room or extra money to store the now unwanted replicants, so they were simply left to wander. Over the following years, there were frequent sightings and encounters with replicants in major areas, but they slowly dwindled until they eventually disappeared from the Mexican and global eye completely…_

…and that was 100 years ago.

Tulio devoured the information he read on his phone, and he couldn't help but mentally add a footnote to the entry, going along the lines of _"until the most recent sighting and encounter of an Ernesto replicant today by a young Tulio Perez."_

Somewhere in his heart, Tulio kicked himself for having been so stupid and impulsive enough to decide to just grab a guy in an alley thinking it wouldn't have any disastrous consequences. He's most definitely taking papa Gregorio's advice to heart from now on. Putting the petal basket away, he thought about how Gregorio knew so well that the stranger was a replicant. Well, aside from the fact that the original died almost 200 years and people who die don't just appear alive and kicking a considerable time after that, Gregorio somehow had the energy to show him just how unhappy he was to see him, like the replicant was exactly like the original, not just in body but also in soul. It was like he was expecting him to just do what the original did because it was the entire point of his existence – to be or represent an Ernesto de la Cruz brought back to life.

Tulio felt uneasy about the previous encounter, his mind wandering to possibilities of whether or not Ernesto (the replicant) would have done something if left alone. But even more so, he felt afraid of the possibility of running into him again, now that he knew that the boy was Rivera-related. Ernesto seemed pretty angry at the revelation, and considering what happened to replicants of a man at odds with the Rivera family, it might not go over well. After all, it almost happened to great-great-grandfather Miguel, at least according to his story.

Tulio put those thoughts out of his mind for now as he left to join his family for the upcoming celebration.

* * *

Somewhere in another alley, Ernesto was leaning back first against a wall. He was huffing and puffing, having done a speed walk down the streets and around blocks until he reached that point. But it wasn't entirely due to fatigue. As his heart raced, he continued to fume quietly as he slowly slid down the wall onto the ground in a sitting position. He rested his head over his knees.

"Idiota," he quietly cursed himself, "estúpido idiota! Of all the people to listen to, that boy was Rivera?" He grabbed his head and shook it slowly, trying to make sense of it all. It hadn't even been half a day and he went from a reluctant guest to an intruder booted out at the first opportunity. He'd seen plenty of things on his own, but any time it involved the name Rivera, whatever happened to him only got so much worse. At that moment, he silently asked himself why his name was Ernesto, why he had a face that someone didn't get along with, let alone everyone. He lowered his head to look down at his left arm, focusing particularly on the elbow area. On it was a tiny discolored dot, as though it were a pinprick that had just been healing from a recent puncture. He sighed.

"Just a little longer now," he whispered to himself. "Just hang in there…"

Looking up at the sky from between the two short buildings he sat between, he listened silently to the soft breeze that gently blew between the walls and he even caught traces of other people's jovial cries and the hissing of sparkle sticks that gave the impression of fireworks or firecrackers held in one's hand. He mouthed quietly to himself, having no intention of anyone listening but himself:

 _Buenas tardes, buenas noches_

 _Señoritas y señores_

 _To be here with you tonight brings me joy, que alegria_

 _For this music is my language and the world es mi familia_

 _For this music is…my language and the world…es…_

Ernesto hesitated. He couldn't finish it.


	6. Chapter 6

The air was livelier as the sky began to darken and everyone gathered in the courtyard to begin the festivities. The ofrenda was all set along with the table, and the entire family was chattering energetically while they sat enjoying the dishes prepared by abuelita herself. Members exchanged jokes, Gregorio talked to abuelita about how Mama Socorro was doing, and parents had small talk with one another. Even Tulio couldn't help but be caught up in the joyful mood his family was currently in; no way was he going to let some run-in with a pariah-lookalike stop him for living in the moment this Dia de Muertos. He helped himself to every dish that was before him, and after cracking a few humorous lines with his cousins, got up to get some newly acquired creative energy out of his system. Walking around the courtyard, he did a few little dance moves to get with the groove. He didn't do anything overt since he felt no need to be that into the tradition. He noticed that papa Gregorio was about to head out the front gate. He skipped after him.

"Papa Gregorio, where are you going?"

"I need to be at the plaza, mijo. I'm announcing the music talent show, don't you remember?"

Tulio stopped in his tracks. "Oh," he responded in realization, "you're right."

He fidgeted and shuffled his feet a little, thinking about heading back in the direction of the house when Gregorio spoke to him again. "You know, nieto, I can already see that you're the only one who's run out of things to do, and I was thinking I could use some company at the plaza tonight. Do you mind?" He asked that last question with a lifting of his eyebrows, to which Tulio picked up the hint. His eyes widened and his mouth dropped open with a gasp before it was replaced with an open bare-toothed smile.

"No, no, papa Gregorio," Tulio exclaimed ecstatically, "not at all!" He bounced towards his parents and grandmother to let them know of Gregorio's invitation and then bounced back towards his grandfather, who then went through the gate and down the street towards the plaza with his grandson following not too far behind.

The two finally made it to the plaza, to which throngs of people holding instruments and others standing to watch were waiting for their acclaimed announcer to arrive. Gregorio and Tulio looked ahead to the gazebo that stood in the center of the grassy area, which made up the plaza but also served as a park. Getting to the edge of the crowd, Gregorio turned to Tulio.

"Tulio, I'll be going up to the gazebo now. Can I trust you to have fun safely?"

Tulio only winked at his grandpa with a mischievous grin. Gregorio rolled his eyes and shook his head sarcastically, giving a half smile in turn. As he went up, Tulio squeezed his way into the middle of the crowd, which had spread out a little more evenly. Since his own abuelo-in-law was rather famous and people didn't exactly make a connection between a famed Rivera and a friendly neighborhood Perez, the boy thought he'd experience Gregorio's glory while being part of the crowd. It would at least spare Gregorio Rivera the awkwardness of talking with an in-law in his presence. Looking between two people, he heard the crowds cheer as Gregorio stepped into the gazebo, giving his biggest party smile and turned around in every direction to let everyone see.

"Bienvenidos a todos," the man gave out a significantly loud call, "who's ready for some musica?" Tulio cheered along with the crowd, though his voice remained drowned out by the louder voices given by every townsperson surrounding him. He heard Gregorio continue, who continued to let out his voice without the slightest hint of fatigue or other evidence of his age, "Tonight is a sundown to late night concert, amigos. To all performers, prepare to play your hearts out. At the end, there will be a vote to see who gets to take a free express trip to Santa Cecilia to meet the familia músico in person: familia Rivera!" The crowd roared with excitement, and Tulio couldn't help but giggle a little, whispering a silent 'good luck' to every person with an instrument. Gregorio then concluded his opening, "Let the show begin!"

* * *

The sun was almost completely gone from the sky, with the blue sky having been replaced with a purple, burgundy-like hue. Ernesto lost count of how long he had been sitting in the alley, though he was surprised there weren't many people coming his way. If he had to guess, many of this town's residents were gathered someplace else. The way the voices were shouted out so loudly that he was sure he could hear most of their happy words even from the distance he was. He gave a ghostly smile as he looked up at the evening sky once again, thinking:

 _What color is the sky, ay mi amor, ay mi amor?_

 _You tell me that it's red, ay mi amor, ay mi amor._

 _Where should I put my shoes, ay mi amor, ay mi amor?_

 _You say, "Put them on your head." Ay mi amor, ay mi amor._

 _You make me un poco loco, un poquititito loco._

 _The way you keep me guessing, I'm nodding and I'm yes-ing._

 _I'll count it as a blessing that I'm only un poco loco._

He couldn't help but smile a little more, even if it was to himself and it didn't really mean much at that point. What he did think was that the crowds he heard from far away were too jubilant to be _"un poco loco."_ It felt more like _"muy mucho loco"_ to him. But his smile vanished when he then had the thought of being in the crowd with that same kind of mood too. What was he thinking? To think that he could actually walk into a crowd and not risk being chased away by someone who knew of him, let alone someone well-known, like that…boy's grandfather. Now that would make him _"un poco loco."_ In fact, he thought everything about this could be summed up in those three words. But what else can he say? Those words, those songs he sang to himself were all he knew. Singing them was what he did best. But then again, when was the last time he had actually been part of civilization? When had he actually made an effort to be as though he never was this famous, or infamous, music star? If he tried hard enough, he could walk among any group of people and not throw it all into chaos.

Maybe they had already forgotten.

No, that old man still remembered who he was, so there was no chance he could walk among the people, at least without wearing a hood, or maybe a mask; Ernesto only wished that wasn't a requirement. Privately singing those little songs was already an initial struggle, since he hadn't done that in a long time. (and was rusty, to boot) His best bet was to sit tight and wait for the right moment to leave town, and hopefully, he'll never have to run into anyone who recognized him, including that old man and his bratty grandson, ever again.

But again, what were the odds?

Ernesto once again thought about how long he had been sitting for. Again, he didn't know since he wasn't counting, but he knew that he had probably been here long enough and he was starting to feel fidgety. His ear picked up the cheers of the crowd and even caught bits of music being played with various instruments. No longer able to suppress his curiosity, Ernesto got back onto his feet and stepped out of the alley. He looked left and right to check if there were any people still walking about. Finding none, he calmly strolled down the road slightly sandwiched between the sidewalks and quaint brick buildings, all the while following the sounds until he turned a corner to discover their source at the plaza. In the park-like area, people were shouting, waving their arms, clapping, and filling the air with colors as they watched a few others with musical instruments playing a variety of songs on a raised platform on the grass not far from a clean-looking gazebo.

Ernesto found the cacophony somewhat nostalgic, but yet, it made him take a few steps back. He already saw that everyone at this party was happy, and he didn't want that to stop. If he went in and someone recognized him, the mood would sour immediately and he would have to skip to leaving town. If he didn't go in, he would miss out on something rare and special, considering what time he had to spend.

 _"At least,"_ he thought to himself, _"it's not me on that stage."_ He took a moment to look at the singers and players who performed with such fervor and garnered so much applause from those surrounding them. From that first glance, he saw that they looked nothing like him and yet they played music to which they were awarded. That got Ernesto to make up his mind. _"Oh what else have I got to lose?"_ he told himself. _"It's Dia de Muertos! I should live a little…while I still can."_ He walked forward to get closer to the crowd, close enough that he could still consider himself a part of the audience. He did opt to stand at the edge of the throng though, to be just in it but not too much. He took the time to take in the audience's and performers' thrills that emanated in the air and reached his heart. Looking back upwardly to the sky, he faintly appeared melancholic. _"Is this what it means,"_ he whispered to no one, _"to seize my moment?"_ He turned his head back down. _"Reach for it and grab it tight,"_ Ernesto thought. _"And…make it come true, he said."_ But was any of this true? Real?

Well, he was standing in a crowd, participating in the cheers as a listener rather than a performer. For once, he'd just like to enjoy what others had brought to the table, and even be impressed with the others together. Ernesto could only hope that tonight, he wouldn't feel like he was on stage, under a spotlight being observed and waiting to be judged or made a target for thrown garbage. Instead, he hoped he could just be Ernesto the guest, not the musician, regardless if he was standing before everyone or among them.

 _"It must feel terrible to be lonesome,"_ Ernesto thought to himself further, thinking as though he were reciting it from an old movie, _"especially in the middle of a crowd."_ By then, he snapped his head up upon realizing that he had been thinking too deeply for so long and was not listening to the music being played. Remembering that it was Dia de Muertos, Ernesto convinced himself to try and live a little for tonight, clapped his hands together to join in with the applause being made by the crowd for the recent finish of the show's current performers.


	7. Chapter 7

The show continued well after the sky turned dark blue, and the streets surrounding the plaza were aglow with lanterns and multicolored lights. Everywhere else, men and women were dancing, mariachis were playing, and there were fireworks and people in costumes who paraded wherever the crowds weren't packed at the moment. It was though the heart of the town continued to beat louder, faster, and brighter than it had been every other day of the year.

Tulio was still among the crowd, taking in the joys and cheers they made when new performers began and ended their songs. He kept count of a few performers – there was one who played bongos, another who did a vocal solo, a group of guitarists doing an impressive medley, and much more. Feeling like he's watched enough performances, he inched his way out of the crowd to make his way to an opening on the grass. There, he could see his abuelo Gregorio sitting and watching the performances to his own enjoyment too. Going up to him, Tulio approached and then stood beside his grandpa as the music continued to fill the air. Gregorio eventually noticed and turned to face the boy.

"Ah, there you are, Tulio. Having fun?"

"Si, papa Gregorio, I am. Everyone up there's really good." Both grandfather and grandson looked at the newest group of players dazzling their audience.

"So," Gregorio opened up further, a playful grin noticeable, "who do you think is going to win?"

Tulio only shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know yet, but maybe I could guess it's going to be those people with the drums and wind instruments," he said while pointing to a group, "or that xylophone kid," he pointed at another, "or maybe the people with the violin and drum set." He didn't really point to those people because they were likely candidates, but rather because he wasn't paying close attention to their faces and just picked out the ones he could remember from the top of his head, mainly ones he saw recently.

Gregorio nodded in turn to humor his grandson, but then got him to look into his eyes directly. "You know, this show does go on for most of the night and the prize isn't that big of a deal. We always make room for extra performers who sign up late." His eyes then gazed directly into Tulio's. "And I know one person who's gotten pretty good with a guitar recently…"

Tulio, seeing what his grandpa was implying, widened his eyes in surprise. "W-wait, me?" he asked with curiosity in his tone, "You think I should get up there? That sounds nice, abuelo, but I've only been playing with the guitar for a little bit. Plus, it's so sudden…"

Gregorio put his hand on Tulio's shoulder. "No worries," he assured the boy, "Miguel started out feeling the way you are when he began singing and playing his guitar the first time on Dia de Muertos. But he decided that his love for music was greater than his stage fright, and he showed everyone he could do it. He even touched the heart of his mama Coco without being afraid of what his family might have done."

"Well…" Tulio looked away with a hand behind his head.

"But if you don't think you're ready yet, that's fine," Gregorio said. "It was only a suggestion." He then turned back to watch the people play.

But Tulio already had something in mind. His heart jumped when he initially heard his grandpa ask him if he wanted to join in the competition. It felt a bit scary, but at the same time, he was asking in his mind, _"I can still sing? Even when there's no signup sheet anymore?"_ He looked back at the gazebo. _"But does anyone else know this?"_ He wondered about that momentarily, and then thought about the possibility of several other people who were dying to play but thought they missed their chance. Tulio himself didn't think about whether or not he could still play or if he could do well enough for a chance at the Santa Cecilia trip, but if his skills at the guitar were enough to put on a show at least. But then again, when Miguel was a kid, he only played the guitar for a little while with only videos to teach him and still did great on his first show. (though he was still debating whether or not the part about playing for skeletons held any real credibility) Putting all those thoughts together, Tulio turned back to Gregorio.

"Papa Gregorio, you mind if you wait for me?"

"Going somewhere?" Gregorio responded.

"Just remembered there was a guitar sitting in the corner of somebody's room," Tulio replied, winking.

Seeing that face, Gregorio's eyes drooped with casual endearment. "I'm not going anywhere."

With that, Tulio took off, leaving the plaza to go back to his house. He had a guitar in his room, so it would be a shame not to use it, especially on this night.

* * *

The sky had definitively changed from dark blue to a blackish blue at this point, and the music and cries had calmed down slightly. It was only natural for people to be hyped up at the beginning and then mellowed down near the middle, but they would surely pick up their energy again.

Away from the quieter but still chatty crowds, Ernesto sat on a barrel behind a small building standing next to the plaza. For once, he actually enjoyed the energy that he felt being given off by everyone present at this fiesta. It only made more sense since said fiesta is announced to go on until late in the night, not just later than the average kid's bedtime but also the hours even adults consider to be reasonable. Come to think of it, since he decided he should live a little, Ernesto thought about maybe getting a churro to further enhance his experience. But his mind immediately rebounded towards the question of whether or not he might get recognized. Again, he shoved that thought out of his brain, reasoning to himself about how long it's been since anyone saw a replicant like him. He remembered meeting many during his lifetime, but even they all looked the same to him. Over time, he found fewer and fewer, and for the last number of years until now, he hasn't seen one at all. In fact, apart from himself who stayed hidden, there was no one at all who saw someone like him, so something like that had to fade from memory, right?

Ernesto weighed his chances; there were so many strangers who had gone their entire lives without taking the time to look at anyone, and there was one old man who did look at him based on being part of a family who knew of him well. But still, it was one person, so Ernesto concluded that as long as he didn't encounter that man, the rest of the crowd won't follow suit. Making up his mind, he got up and went back around the corner to expose himself to the open plaza and looked for a churro stand. Upon finding a stand, he approached it, taking a deep breath and exhaling before getting closer.

A man with a thin moustache and a hat on his head attended the stand. "Buenos tardes, señor. What'll it be?"

"Two whole churros, por favor," Ernesto replied, not wanting to waste time even standing around. He stayed on his toes the whole time, hoping that the churro man did not stop to take a glance at the replicant's face. He remembered about where he kept his pesos, that being in his side pockets. When the churro man finally got back up from below his stand with the two churros Ernesto ordered, he paused for a moment to look his customer over, though his face wasn't one of them.

"Are you okay, señor?" the man asked, his eyebrows bent unevenly in curiosity. "You don't seem to be in good shape."

Ernesto groaned internally at the contrived inconvenience, but recomposed himself. "I finished some dirt work. I didn't have time to change."

The churro man remained inquisitive. "It must be some intense dirt work to get your clothes so torn up like that."

Ernesto held himself together. "Si, it was."

The churro man still looked at Ernesto for a moment while the latter tried his best to not give a negative impression, and decided that it was not his business. However, he did make one note to his customer. "There normally isn't dirt work this close, let alone during the fiesta," he said, not noticing the little adrenaline jump made by Ernesto, who was sure his secret was about to be discovered. "But I can understand if you're having it hard right now." That comment then made Ernesto drop his shoulders in relaxation. Handing Ernesto his churros, the man told him, "Here, these are on the house."

Ernesto was slightly taken aback. "R-really?" he asked, taking them.

The man nodded. "I can tell by looking at you that you're a man who's gone through quite a bit of hardship. You can take these churros as a gift. Besides, it's Dia de Muertos. It's less about business and all about the cheers."

Ernesto only stood still, but managed to tell the man, "G-gracias. It's-I really appreciate it."

The churro man tipped his hat. "Happy Dia de Muertos, amigo."

"Same to you too…amigo," Ernesto replied with a little more warmth in his voice. He turned to leave and went back to the building corner at the edge of the plaza. He sat on a nearby crate and leaned his back against the wall, letting out a sigh of relief before digging his hand into the bag to grab a churro. He instantly felt himself fluttering into the night sky upon taking the first bite. When was the last time he ever got to have something this good?

Regardless of what the answer to that question might be, Ernesto savored every bite as he finished the churro. Hearing the pattering of feet from behind him, he turned around to down the long street. Looking into the darkness, he saw a kid from far away walking in the direction of the plaza while holding and playing what appeared to be a guitar. He chewed a bit after the whole churro had gone from his hand and then reached into the bag again to get the second churro. His fingertips graced the grainy cinnamon-covered texture when he thought he heard a faint rumbling sound growing louder, which he detected was also coming from behind him. Turning around again, he saw a truck turning around a corner several blocks behind the kid who was still walking with the guitar. Even though the truck's headlights were on, the truck's sounds were not enough to get the kid's attention as they were strumming on the guitar rather loudly, and the truck only got closer and closer while the beams of the headlights haven't even reached the kid's back.

 _"Does that kid have a death wish?"_ Ernesto exclaimed in his mind, leaping off the crate and dashing towards the kid who still remained oblivious to the oncoming vehicle. Sprinting as fast as his legs could push against the pavement, Ernesto managed to be only a few meters away from the kid when he detected the beams of the truck's headlights illuminating the kid from behind. To his inconvenience, the kid stopped walking and strumming the guitar only to turn around. With a wound up step and a little curse in his mind, Ernesto took one powerful leap across the road and tackled the kid, sending both tumbling onto the sidewalk ahead just as the truck roared by, oblivious to the potential death it could have caused. Having landed on his back, Ernesto sat himself upright so that the kid could also get their bearings. As he looked at the kid, he saw from the physique that the kid was male.

"Are you okay, muchacho?" he asked the boy while getting a better look at him from the darkness of the night sky.

"Yes," the boy stammered as he collected himself, "Muchos gracias. I don't know what could've-" his voice trailed off as he lifted his head to look directly at his savior.

Ernesto gasped, time having suddenly stopped. "You!"

 _There is no way my luck is that bad._

* * *

Making his way down the street leading away from his house, Tulio held the guitar in his hands, feeling the weight of the instrument from the strap that looped around his shoulders. With his fingers on the strings, he began to strum the instrument delicately, taking a little while to get used to the feeling as well as warming his fingers up. When he began dabbling with the guitar, it had only been two years ago, and even then, he didn't have time to practice every day. But even so, once his family learned that he had an interest in the guitar, it was as though the revelation made their hearts sing.

Seeing a Perez have the desire to play a guitar effectively led to a proud declaration of pride in the marital relation between the Perez family and the esteemed Rivera family. Tulio thought it was just coincidence. After all, the Riveras were certainly not the only ones who played music, let alone great-great-grandfather Miguel being the only person who invented guitar-playing at all. In fact, Tulio's choice to play the guitar was one he made at random while the connection between guitar-playing and the Rivera family's rise to fame only encouraged that.

Tulio did think about what was it about the songs Miguel played that everyone loved. He, for one, didn't deny that he was among the masses who allowed his heart to be stolen away by the spirit of Miguel's great work. Maybe it was because Miguel never claimed the music as his own; he firmly believed in a person's right to embrace it as a hope and dream that shone a light on their future. But most importantly, he always made sure to give credit to their true creator, Hector Rivera, who was the real writer of the songs Miguel so came to find a special place in his heart for. Tulio placed his fingers on the strings again, having made the decision to try playing a song rather special when it came to Miguel Rivera: his first original song which he had written himself at only age 13 – Proud Corazón – it was the song that set him on the path that he always wanted to travel, and even encouraged the rest of his family to embrace as well.

Strumming the chords, Tulio made an effort to capture every detail imbued by its original creator, thanks to having heard it multiple times, thanks to the several editions, covers, and arrange versions he had downloaded and kept over the several years he had been exposed to the music. Concentrating on which string his fingers touched, he played every note from memory, closing his eyes to figure out what sort of power Miguel had given it when he was playing. Playing a D, then an E, up to F-sharp, and then down to D, then going to C-natural, a combined G and B-chord, and so forth, the memory of the song became stronger and clearer in the boy's mind. Keeping in mind that he had all the time of the night before the plaza show finished, he strolled his way down while continuing to play.

 _Say that I'm crazy or call me a fool_  
 _But last night, it seemed that I dreamed about you_  
 _When I opened my mouth, what came out was a song_  
 _And you knew every word and we all sang along_

He looked up and saw the colored paper banners and lanterns strewn around the top of lampposts.

 _To a melody played on the strings of our souls_  
 _And a rhythm that rattled us down to the bone_  
 _Our love for each other will live on forever_  
 _In every beat of my proud corazón_  
 _Our love for each other will live on forever_  
 _In every beat of my proud corazón_

He saw that the plaza was in sight, and his heart jumped a little at the thought of actually playing on that stage. But he remembered Miguel, and just then, remembered his memorable grito that always dispelled everything else that might have gotten in the way of his presented joy. He was getting close, so he remembered to finish up.

 _Ay mi familia, oiga mi gente_  
 _Canten al coro, let it be known_  
 _Our love for each other will live on forever_  
 _In every beat of my proud cora-…_

Tulio's thoughts trailed off as he felt a deep rumble coming from behind him. Feeling fear rising in his gut, he forced himself to turn around to find himself blinded by a pair of lights and the rumble becoming a deafening roar.

A flash of arms immediately took over Tulio's senses as he was suddenly knocked off his feet onto the sidewalk behind. Even while he briefly tumbled, a small part of his mind complained about being interrupted before he could finish his finale, but he had to push that back down to remember what was going on. Lifting up his head to strain his eyes, his eyes then widened at the sight of a massive truck roaring by, giving him the impression that it didn't seem him through the darkness.

Tulio shuddered at the thought of actually being hit by the truck, the thought of actually dying on Dia de Muertos. He couldn't imagine what it would feel like. But here he was, on the sidewalk just inches from being smashed to bits by someone who pushed him out of the way. Seeing that this person had held him on top of themselves while landing on their own back, Tulio looked down at them to catch a glimpse of their immediate features which came out to look definitively masculine. The boy backed away as the man sat himself upright and now looked taller, making Tulio look upwards towards the man's face.

"Are you okay, muchacho?" _Wait, that voice…_

"Yes," Tulio managed to speak out, "Muchos gracias," he forced out his words of thanks, keeping eye contact on the man whose features he could make out through his eyes adjusting to the darkness. "I don't know what could've-" his voice trailed off as the man's face became shockingly and freshly familiar to him. His eyes widened at just who he was looking at, who actually saved his life, and felt as though time had just stopped. "It's you!"

 _Just when I hoped this wouldn't happen…I need to stop saying that._

* * *

 ***To all readers: Does this part look familiar? Does it remind you of something else you've seen?**


	8. Chapter 8

On a sidewalk near the edge of the plaza, a man and a boy stared at each other in recognition, having been reunited not long after they had just met.

"You! You're the replicante!"

"You're the Perez boy!"

Both exclaimed their discoveries without shouting for anyone to hear, but they still were shocked at the sight of each other, especially since it happened only several hours after meeting each other the first time. Ernesto felt both surprise and frustration at finding the boy who got him in trouble while Tulio expressed shock and anxiety at seeing the man with whom he had left a bad impression. Unsure of what to do, say, or even think, they both looked at each other for a few seconds before Tulio's eyes wandered back to the road.

"My guitar!" he cried, scrambling to take a look at the shattered pieces, splinters, and curled broken strings that used to make up the guitar he had been playing moments before. From the looks of it, while Tulio made it out of the truck's path thanks to Ernesto, the guitar wasn't so lucky. Tulio could only guess that it stayed midair in the path of the truck after flying away from the boy when he was tackled, leading to the obvious. Tulio's hands trembled as he held the pieces. "No…no…ay maldita sea," he whined in an insincere half-sob.

Witnessing the drama unveiling before him, Ernesto put his head in his hand, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Ay dios mio," he groaned to himself, contemplating what had transpired up to that point, "this has got to be the worst joke the world has ever told." Knowing for sure that he had enough of this nonsense, he raised his voice back to normal volume. "Oye! Oye, muchacho!" Tulio, having heard the Ernesto calling him, turned his head back hesitantly to look back at the man. Ernesto continued, "I just saved your life and the first thing you do is cry over a broken guitar?"

"That was MY guitar," Tulio exclaimed, wildly directing his hands at himself to make that point obvious. "I had it since forever ago! I mean, thanks for saving me, but couldn't you save my guitar too?"

"Well, too late for that," Ernesto mumbled. "I was just shocked that you didn't see the truck until I was right next to you."

Tulio, unable to figure out his next comeback, slumped back to sitting on the pavement. "What are you doing out here?" he squeaked after staying silent for a little while.

"I could ask you the same question," Ernesto retorted. No way was he going to let this boy ask him such a demanding question after he just did him a big favor.

Tulio conceded. "I was practicing a song for the talent show at the plaza. I wanted to try how good I was with my guitar, so I got it from home, and well, now we're here." He scooted a few inches away from the man, uneasy about what might happen since he was alone with him. "Well?" Tulio continued to break the silence, "your turn."

Ernesto couldn't help but turn his head away from the boy. He could see the boy's tense feelings expressed in his eyes and it simply felt all too familiar to him. Without looking at Tulio at all, he spoke, "I was having a churro."

The breeze whistled in place of their silence, even though one would have expected a cricket's chirp to be present instead.

"That's it?" Tulio asked with disbelief. "Just a _churro_?"

"You thought I had more?"

"Well," Tulio tripped over his thoughts, "I just thought you'd be doing…other…kinds of things…but anything but just have a churro!"

At that point, Ernesto was just about ready to go over to the boy, grab him by the shoulders, and give him the shaking of a lifetime. _"Other kinds of things?"_ he thought with distaste, _"Just what did you think I was doing instead? Did I do something illegal?"_ But he opted to be a little more polite about it. "So if I wasn't having a churro," he told Tulio calmly, though the boy could sense what was behind the level tone, "what would I be doing…according to you?"

"Well…" Tulio hesitated, "actually…I…don't know."

This earned a smothered chuckle from Ernesto. This was getting more ridiculous by the second. "Of course," he shook his head, the sarcastic smile still on his face, "all this time, you thought I was just up to no good, yet you had no idea how it was so!"

"H-h-hey!" Tulio protested. "It's not like I can just look at you and think of good things you could do for people! You're Ernesto, like _Ernesto de la Cruz_. You're made of everything he is, and you should know what he is already, don't you?" He pointed a finger at the man. "If anything, I'd think you're bad exactly because I don't know what you would do."

Ernesto stared at the boy's raised finger with a look of displeasure, only to gesture a hand forward in dismissal. "Well, that would prove to be a waste of time," he sighed, giving some more sarcastic politeness. "If that's the case, how many villains have you uncovered with your sense of…'moral detection'? Is that how you uncover what people are like, or rather, how you even make friends to begin with?"

Tulio grimaced at Ernesto's half-hearted speaking, yet struggled to come up with something to counter what he said. For some reason, he couldn't find it in himself to feel indignant towards the man in regards to who he was. True, he still felt a bit nervous when in Ernesto's presence, but there was something about him that the boy couldn't decide was true or not. After all, he may have been shocked with the revelation of Ernesto's identity, but he didn't feel the level of dislike his abuelo Gregorio had. Even more, Ernesto was right in what he said. Tulio couldn't just guess or assume what a person was based on what he's heard or seen. So, he decided to just come clean.

"Okay, alright, you're right," he raised his hands in defeat. "You're not the real Ernesto de la Cruz, so I can't talk to you like I know you. But still, I can't know how different you are just because of that."

Ernesto narrowed his eyes at the statement, obviously not convinced. Crossing his arms, he steadily got back onto his two feet and kept his gaze on the boy. "Then what must I do to prove to you that I'm different?"

That question caught Tulio off guard. This man was actually asking him? Did he actually ask him to tell him what he should do? Somehow, Ernesto's question didn't feel entirely sincere, owing to a tone of voice that didn't make him come across as all that curious. But then again, the thought of a replicant of Ernesto, the Ernesto de la Cruz who did not bow to anyone, doing exactly that was what worried him. After all, from what he heard of the infamous pseudo-singer, he was never above doing whatever he thought worked well enough to get what he wanted. But that didn't change the fact that the man in front of him asked a question. "Well," he paused as he tried to come up with a possible request for Ernesto, "could you get me…a new guitar?"

That earned him a frowny look from Ernesto. "Estas loco, chamaco," he responded with his hands on his hips, "I can't afford a new guitar."

Tulio flinched at Ernesto's abrupt response, being reminded that not long ago, he found the man sleeping in the gutter. But the boy wasn't finished yet. "Well, don't you have a guitar? I mean, you play one."

"Sure, I play a guitar," Ernesto quipped. "That doesn't mean I have a guitar with me, let alone own one."

"And you say that because…?"

That made Ernesto glower at what he heard. Tilting his head down until his gaze met Tulio like a hawk in for the kill, he spoke in a low quiet tone that oozed of repressed irritation, "Do you think that after all this time living in the gutter, I'd still be walking around with a guitar? I don't think I have that kind of luxury."

Seeing that Ernesto's answers were not getting him anywhere, Tulio lowered his eyes to the ground with his face changed to match his own groan that had stress etched in it. It didn't seem like asking him for a guitar was going to work. He thought of asking him for another kind of favor, though he couldn't make up his mind about what that would be. On the other hand, he also thought of just calling the whole thing off and letting himself and Ernesto go separate ways. Having to deal with Ernesto himself already complicated the situation enough. "Well then," Tulio spoke up again, "Just…never mind. You don't need to do anything for me. I'll just head back to the plaza and I won't bother you again." He scrambled to his feet and turned around to go back to his grandfather. Upon taking the first step, he heard Ernesto speak to him again.

"Not so fast, chamaco."

That made Tulio stop walking. Turning around to look at Ernesto again, he saw the man with his arms crossed in front of his chest while tapping his foot like it wasn't anyone's business. Ernesto continued, "I may not have a guitar, but you never asked me if I knew anyone who does." That got Tulio's attention. Fully facing Ernesto, the boy slowly walked towards the man until he was only a meter apart.

"You," Tulio spoke up quietly, but had his full attention on the replicant. "You know someone who has a guitar, one I can use?"

"Well, I don't really 'know' him," Ernesto explained, gesturing his hands to the side, "but I know about him well enough to tell you he has guitars…plenty of them, actually."

That made Tulio brighten up again, a smile returning to his face. "Then where is he?" he exclaimed with reinvigorated energy, having felt willing to put aside his feelings of scrutiny to let Ernesto speak, at least for one night. "Where do I find this guy and how can I get his guitars?"

Ernesto stood still as he looked at the boy's starry-eyed expression. It reminded him of other kids he used to know. Like the boy standing before him, those kids were loud, laughed, and smiled while dancing around, according to his memory.

"It's at…" Ernesto got ready to tell Tulio, but as he looked at him, remembered he was still only a child. "Actually, I can take you there." He then started walking, going past Tulio who swiveled around to face Ernesto's back in protest.

"What? I don't need you to take me. Why don't you just tell me?"

"Were you going to go yourself?" Ernesto looked back.

"I was fine with you just giving me directions, but I'm not a kid! I don't get lost easy." Tulio remarked.

"Uh, you are a kid," Ernesto pointed out, not amused by Tulio's denials. "And I'm sure if you knew what place I'm talking about just by hearing the name, you'd be looking for a guitar somewhere else."

Tulio's expression of protest immediately relaxed into a blank state of bewilderment. Arching an eyebrow, he stooped a little closer to Ernesto, who then turned around to head where he wanted to go. It prompted Tulio to pick up his pace, hurriedly keeping up just behind Ernesto as they made their way past the plaza towards whatever place Ernesto mentioned. "How do you know?" Tulio questioned Ernesto once more, only about his statement about the place the man knew not being an ideal place for getting a guitar. Ernesto did not turn back to look Tulio in the eye this time, keeping his focus on what was in front of him.

"Just trust me."


	9. Chapter 9

Tulio thought the place looked a tiny bit unwelcoming once he saw it. He wasn't sure if what Ernesto said was entirely true as he pondered it while following him across from the edge of the plaza. (though he also wondered how he and Ernesto even got by without Gregorio noticing)

Giving the entrance a look over, he saw that the door was lit by only one light hanging above. The walls composing the building were of rough sandstone-textured mortar. But what stood out most of all were the iron bars that lined the tall elongated windows and the raunchy shouts coming from inside. Tulio began asking himself if Ernesto was sure there was actually a guitar in that place. But that wasn't going to stop him from finding out for himself, let alone finding what he had been seeking out. After all, he's not a kid, at least not anymore. Stepping forward towards the door, Tulio suddenly felt Ernesto encircling a hand around his arm.

"Hey, let go!" Tulio cried out in surprise. He was already tense enough in the man's presence, but for the man to actually touch him like that, road rescue notwithstanding, forced all the anxieties he had towards him back to the surface. "What are you doing?"

"What does it look like I'm doing?" Ernesto snapped back, maintaining and even slightly tightening his grip on the boy's arm. "I'm trying to keep you from going in a seedy bar." He had to watch how tightly he held on though, since Tulio kept trying to pull himself away. That got Ernesto exasperated, getting him to speak again, "Will you stop squirming?"

Tulio stopped struggling and turned his eyes to look directly into Ernesto's, both sharing a mutual glare. "Hey, you said this place had a bunch of guitars. You said you would take me here and here we are." He motioned his head over to the front door as a means of pointing to it.

Ernesto, on the other hand, did not loosen his grip. He replied to Tulio's words, "And I also told you that this place will make you want to look for another guitar somewhere else." He paused before adding another point, "Anyways, I didn't say I'd take you inside."

This time, Tulio got his arm out of Ernesto's hand. Stooping just a few meters to the door, he swiveled quickly to give Ernesto a sign to back off. "Then I'm going in myself. You brought me here like you promised, so we're done here. I don't need help asking someone to borrow their guitar." With that, he turned to go straight towards the door. When he saw that Tulio had already grasped the door's handle and begun to pull it, he crossed his arms and waited. Tulio pulled the door handle with more and more effort, but found himself unable to enter.

"Need help?" Ernesto spoke up with nary a show of restraint in his amused tone of voice.

"No," Tulio heaved, not stopping to take a break, "I told you I don-"

"You have to push it," Ernesto interrupted.

Tulio stopped what he was doing and turned back to Ernesto with a bewildered look that lasted a few seconds. Turning back to the door, he put his hand on the door's surface and pushed forward, and sure enough, it opened before him, exposing the inside of the bar and releasing a soft breeze that faintly smelled of smoke. "Oh," Tulio quietly commented, "um…thanks?" His word of thanks was quickly passed over as he saw Ernesto walk past him into the bar. Tulio immediately followed behind the man before said man turned around to block him.

"And that's as far as you go," he told him. "You wait out here."

Tulio unsurprisingly protested once again. "Come on! I told you I can do it myself! Besides, it's only for a second." He then tried to get past Ernesto who continually pushed in his way whenever the boy went a direction. "Now let me through," he grunted, vainly trying to push the man's bulk away.

"You can wait until you're older," Ernesto tiredly replied to the boy's futile shoves, while adding, "but for now, wait outside. This place is not for kids like you to be caught dead wandering around in." With that statement, Ernesto would have turned to enter the bar without a second thought while Tulio cooperated, but the boy proved more unpredictably stubborn than he thought. Having enough, Ernesto grabbed him by the shoulders and lifted him slightly off his feet before taking him back out the door. Setting him back down again, Ernesto closed the door and leaned down to look straight into Tulio's face, who in turn, leaned backwards to get some breathing room. "What part of _'wait outside the seedy bar while I get a guitar for you'_ didn't you get?" he asked the boy incredulously, motioning both his hands side by side in front of his head.

Tulio, on the other hand, was no longer frightened of the man's irate behavior, since this time, he had a reason for his defiance. "So this place has some suspicious people," he reasoned, "so it would be standing in an equally suspicious neighborhood." He placed his hands on his hips while eyeing the adult with a sassy look, "you really want to leave me by myself out in this dark street rather than a lit room?" Ernesto paused when he heard this before looking left and right at both ends of the street that sat before the entrance to the bar. Aside from the plaza which stood several more meters away, the air was still rather quiet and the immediate area considerably empty. In contrast with the festive ever-changing lights of the plaza, the area with the bar was almost dead. Thinking about it, there were always some individuals who were not completely into the community mood on holidays, let alone this one. With the rules of common society, being alone in a dark empty area might seem worse than being alone in a lit crowded one, so Tulio might have a point there.

"Fine," Ernesto sighed with his hands lifted in defeat, prompting a smug look from Tulio. He turned to head back into the bar and did not try to push the boy back out when he followed. But he did swivel around one more time, this time in a flash and the sternest posture he could muster; he at least got some satisfaction out of startling the boy in his tracks. Ernesto warned him, "But you better not wander off. You stay in my sight until we're done here." He gestured further with a pointed finger held rigidly in front of Tulio's face. The boy flinched back slightly from the little sudden intrusion of his space. But he shrugged his shoulders as he nodded to Ernesto in agreement. Ernesto, not feeling like taking the time to figure out if the boy was sincere, turned back to the interior of the building and went inside with Tulio not too far behind.

Tulio still wasn't quite fond of the man's abrasiveness earlier, and couldn't help but mutter under his breath, "I won't get in the way, _padre_."

"I heard that!"


	10. Chapter 10

Inside the bar, Ernesto tried to make his way around the chairs and tables as quietly as he could without accidentally making a ruckus for its patrons who sat around in sparse numbers. The bar was of a rather humble size, with a drab color theme making up its walls and a rustic preference for tables and chairs. The ceiling was dotted with iron-wheeled chandeliers hanging from the wooden panels above, contributing to the bars nearly tavern-like aesthetic.

Normally, he would have expected the tavern to be nearly deserted on Dia de los Muertos, but it apparently looks like there were a fair number of people who were not in the party mood; his guess was that maybe they didn't have families, apart from their families, or just flat out didn't bother to set up an ofrenda. When he thought about it, Ernesto somehow couldn't help but notice a small feeling of discomfort rising from the bottom of his chest, like the notions he had about why there were still customers made the air a little more difficult to breathe. It already didn't help that a minor was trailing right behind him who was here anyways because of his own insistence and not from Ernesto's own judgment.

Ernesto could feel the stares of some of the patrons present being directed at his back, though he was sure that Tulio's presence was not helping at all. Silently growling to himself, Ernesto hoped that the boy had better not even try to talking to any of the men seated around the area. Turning in the direction of a bar counter, he briefly looked left and right for a staff member he could talk to. He stayed at the counter for a few seconds with Tulio having already taken a seat on one of the nearby swivel-stools. When the boy swung around on the seat for a little bit, the seat let out a tiny squeak which got Ernesto talking again.

"Will you not?" he harshly whispered, baring his teeth without trying to open his mouth too much. His head zipped left and right hoping that he wasn't loud enough to get the attention of the few surrounding patrons. When he still found Tulio slightly swinging the seat and making it squeak, Ernesto clamped his hand on the boy's shoulder, pressing down hard and squeezing tightly. The pressure got the boy to finally sit still, even if it was just for a few seconds.

Ignoring the boy's scowl, Ernesto looked to see an older barrel-chested man coming through a door from behind the counter. For a moment, he tensed up. _"Great, just great,"_ he shuddered in his mind, _"why did I think coming back here was a good idea?"_ Ernesto did not take his widened shocked gaze off the man behind the counter as he steadily plodded his way from one end to the other. His face was rigid and emotionless while his fingers brushed lightly across the wooden countertop. He stopped short when he looked out across the counter to find a young boy sitting on one of the stools. He wasn't looking at Ernesto at the moment, but Ernesto could already feel the other man's narrowed eyes drilling into the boy's own spirit.

"Are you lost, chamaco?" came the large man's gruff and somewhat judgmental voice. His hands were pressed down on top of the bar counter and the man leaned forwards slightly towards Tulio. The posture made the boy uncomfortable, forcing him to lean back slightly, but just not too much to avoid falling off.

"N-no, sir," Tulio winced. He was starting to dislike this already. He didn't hold out hope that he would consider looking for a guitar elsewhere yet, but at the very least, he wanted Ernesto to just ask for the guitar and get it over with, at least if the other man would say yes. The man didn't linger with the boy long when his eyes swiveled over to meet Ernesto, who stood at a meter's distance away.

"Why hello," the large man greeted, his tone and demeanor suddenly having changed to one disturbingly more positive than it was when he talked to Tulio, "Isn't this a surprise? I thought you'd never come back!"

"So did I," Ernesto huffed, not even bothering to return the other man's smile.

The man continued, seeing as Ernesto wasn't going to keep up the conversation, "I always knew you'd come around. I still thought you still had plenty left in you."

"Well, you're still wrong," Ernesto growled, "I didn't come here for you." His eyes momentarily shifted to look at Tulio, who only held on tightly to the seat of the stool as he sensed his older chaperone's hostility. The older larger man briefly caught the movement of Ernesto's eyes and likewise took a look at the boy.

"This boy," he faintly pointed at Tulio with a renewed curiosity, "is he with you?"

Neither Ernesto nor Tulio answered, not wanting to let the other man interpret any possible response as dirt or use it as some form of ammunition. Hearing no answer, the man continued on his rambling. "Well, I suppose if you're not here for me, then why did you come back, Neto?"

Ernesto bristled at what the man had just called him. He hissed, "Don't call me that. I'm just here to borrow one of your guitars."

"One of my guitars, you say?" the man raised his eyebrows. "Now this is a surprise." He made a half-hearted grin as he looked to a wall which had several assorted electric guitars hanging on it. "Ever since I met you, you never considered asking me to let you play one once!"

Ernesto felt a greater shiver going down his back.

The man wasn't done. "I mean, from looking at you, I thought you were a 'guitar'-type of person, but then you surprised me when you not only avoided my guitars, you didn't even comment on them."

Tulio looked back and forth between the two men, trying to get a grasp of what the other man rambling to Ernesto was talking about.

Ernesto found another moment to interject, "Yes! Yes! I wasn't interested in guitar back then," he lifted up a hand to try and signal his disinterest in the conversation, "but of course, times change." He then was able to work up the nerve to lift his head up and look the other man in the face. As much as he hated to do that, (he could already feel the man's drilling gaze pierce into his own soul with a smile that seemed almost predatory) he knew he had to get it over with. "Just…I'd only like to borrow your Ibanez archtop just for tonight," he said, pointing to the shiny, polished, flamed maple-colored electric guitar on the wall in the middle of the other guitars hanging alongside it.

"That one?" the man verified, pointing to it with thumb.

Ernesto nodded.

Without further fanfare, the man turned to the guitar wall and after stepping onto a stool, grabbed the Ibanez archtop and lifted it off the hooks. Bringing it over to the countertop and placing it down, Ernesto grabbed the instrument delicately to avoid scratching it and got off his barstool. "Alright, let's go, chamaco," he said to Tulio, who promptly slid off his own barstool. He didn't look back to see the man narrowing his eyes.

"So you did bring the boy in here with you," he spoke up, freezing both Ernesto and Tulio in their tracks. Tulio looked back slowly with wide eyes, feeling much more nervous. Ernesto looked back as well, feeling half-scared and half-infuriated inside.

"Yes, I did," Ernesto sighed concededly. "I was going to leave him outside, but I decided not to leave him alone. I thought asking you for your guitar would not take long at all," he grumbled. He turned back in the direction of the door. "I'll bring it back to you before the night is over." He then continued to walk until he grabbed the door handle.

"I'll be here all night, so don't worry about being late to return it!" the man called from behind. "I still need to pay you back for your 'help' last time you were with me, Neto."

That made Ernesto yank the door open, to which Tulio had to jump away to avoid getting hit. "You already paid me, Ariel," he retorted, "Tonight is free work."

The man, whose name was Ariel, let his smile droop a little, though not enough to count as a frown. "Then I just might have to charge a late fee if that guitar's not back before I close up," he spoke calmly, crossing his arms. Ernesto and Tulio both hurried on out the door, leaving it to swing itself shut.


End file.
